Alpha, Omega, Angel, Human
by Raychel945
Summary: Dean Winchester wasn't used to having feelings. Certainly not rogue ones about his best friend. So when he discovered something completely new about Cas, that affected him, he realised that maybe, the feelings had been real all along. Alpha!Dean, Omega!Cas. Destiel, Sabriel.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I merely wish I did. All rights go to the creators, and producers.**

 _ **To help with the upkeep of heaven, and ensure that the army of Angels survived, God separated angels into two categories, so that Angels could continue to survive. These two categories of Angels were Alphas and Omegas. In the last five hundred years before they reached the maximum capacity for their powers, when most Angels were 4500 years old, Omega's would go into heat and Alpha's into a rut, distinguishing them. However only mates could tell whether they were Omega or Alpha before they bonded, and then afterwards the scent could be distinguished by other Angels. Once mated, no other Alpha could take control of the Omega, and no Omega could separate an Alpha from its Omega.**_

 _ **On very rare occasions an Omega or an Alpha could be a different species to the Angels, and depending on the type, the resulting offspring would be either an abomination or an accepted kind. If however the mate of a different species did not have the characteristics of an Alpha or Omega, depending which species was more dominant, one of the mates would change their species. To do so they would mate, and the other one would change so they could bond.**_

It was a dark night for summer, and along the road, a large black shape slithered along the road, swerving slightly to the side every so often. The black Impala kept an even speed, despite the swerves to the left, and right. Loud music emanated from the speakers of the well-kept car, as Eye of the Tiger by Survivor played. Sitting shotgun in the Impala, Sam Winchester leaned back trying to catch some sleep. He knew what Dean was doing and appreciated that his brother wanted to get them both home so they didn't have to sleep in the car and he knew that this was how Dean kept himself awake. Lately Dean had been getting testy, and he hoped that a well-deserved rest after a solid week's work would get him back to normal. Sam, himself, barely had any energy to argue when Dean suggested they stop for food at 3 am.

Dean was humming along to the song, forcing his tired eyes open and on the road so he didn't crash his baby. He'd been feeling tense and on edge ever since the beginning of the week, and he hoped that a night on a decent bed would restore his good spirits. He rarely ever snapped at Sam and had done so twice in the same day. Maybe he had expected the long week, and it was his way of dealing with it. He couldn't tell. The long days and sleeplessness nights of prep were taking their toll, and he'd never felt more grateful than when the Bunker came into sight. Stopping the Impala, and pulling out the CD, he stepped out into the cool air, Sam on his heels. Locking the car up, they headed inside, too exhausted to even consider changing clothes before both crashed in their respective beds.

When Sam woke up he became aware of a sense of soreness in his muscles that hadn't been there before. The pain abated slightly, and then flared as he shifted. He groaned inwardly, and then sat up quickly, hoping to get it over. His eyelids felt like lead and he rubbed them, groaning as his arms moved. His entire body felt horrible, and he could only hope it would pass. He moved to stand aware of the stale smell of old clothes, and unwashed bodies. He had not wanted to use any of the showers at the dingy motel rooms, and he swore Dean hadn't either. Even as he became aware of how he smelt, he also became aware of the smell of blood so heavily in the air he could taste the metallic and tangy liquid in his mouth. He groaned and headed towards the shower, his whole body aching.

Down the hall, Dean felt much the same, opening green eyes to close them quickly again. He blinked rapidly to readjust himself into a sense of awareness. He still felt bitchy, and decided that the week had taken a worse toll on him than he had previously thought. Although it was nothing that a little coffee wouldn't fix, with a hearty meal of bacon, and sausages with a load of bread and ketchup, his stomach growling at the thought. He chuckled and went to his own shower, cringing at the stink his clothes, and body emanated.

When both brothers met in the kitchen they headed instinctively headed towards the coffee maker, and started it up. Dean glanced at his gigantor of a brother, and chuckled. Sam looked as weary as he felt. The aroma of coffee quickly filled the area, and Dean pulled his rank as older brother to get the first cup, grinning at Sam as he took a sip of the blessedness that was coffee. Sam growled at him, and then grabbed his own cup.

"Jerk." He huffed, grinning.

"Bitch." Dean returned, and gulped down his coffee, sighing happily as he felt an awareness flood him. Coffee always returned his spirits, but underneath Dean could feel something tugging at him, stirring up anger and frustration. It was only a slight pull, but just enough to concern him. Fearing that maybe he was still feeling the effects of the demon they'd ganked, he decided to do some research whilst waiting for Sam to make breakfast. Underneath the slowly welling frustration and anger, he felt a sense of loneliness, and wondered if maybe he was sick.

With a flutter of wings, Cas appeared in the bunker mildly surprising both Sam and Dean. Surprisingly, Dean felt the welling emotions inside him quieten, and contributed it to missing his friend, and concern that maybe all was not well in Heaven. Cas nodded his greeting to Sam, and then turned to the man he'd pulled from Purgatory.

"Hello Dean." Cas's voice, rough and somewhat sexy pierced Dean's thoughtful mode, and the hunter straightened, nodding at his friend.

"Cas." He replied in greeting, and turned to study, bemused at the thought that he should be concerned for Cas. Cas was a badass, more than capable of handling anything Heaven should throw. The angel tilted his head in a familiar gesture, cerulean eyes sparkling as he stared intensely at Dean.

"You look exhausted. " He said, and Dean chuckled at his friend's bluntness.

"No shit, Cas. We just pulled an all week hunt! Didn't we, Sammy?" Sam grunted distractedly from the kitchen as he flipped the pancakes he'd made. Cas's mouth twisted in a small smile, and he claimed a seat next to wear Dean was standing. The closeness between the two men, pulled something inside Dean, and he frowned as he felt his conscience purring. A small buzz of happiness seemed to run through him, and again he chalked it down to being glad Cas was okay, and Heaven wasn't in shreds. He settled down and set up the laptop, checking for a nice easy hunt.

The welcoming smell of pancakes filtered through the air, and Dean's mouth watered at the thought of tucking into the breakfast Sammy was cooking. Even as he thought about it, his brother plonked a stack of pancakes covered in maple syrup in front of him, and he dug in enthusiastically, moaning at the delicious taste. Even as he uttered the sound he looked up and happened to meet Cas's eyes. The blue was halfway replaced with black, and the angel stared intensely at him. Chewing slowly whilst maintaining the eye contact, he noticed the angel tense, and quickly looked to his laptop, and pulled up a news bulletin in a new tab. Sam leaned over face twisted into a look of concentration, and Dean hoped that his brother hadn't noticed the moment that just passed between him and Cas. Sammy pointed at a paragraph of the article.

"Apparently, they normally hear when she gets up." He commented with his mouth full." But that night the house had been creaking." At Sam's words, Dean leaned forward and read the article more intensively, then started searching for any more news on the family, and pointed at a funeral notice.

"Maybe it's the grandma?" He suggested, mouth as full as Sam's with the delicious pancakes, and Cas stood up and came around, leaning over to read the two articles. Sam nodded, and swallowed his food.

"Looks like a regular salt and burn we got here. We could do it today. How full is the car?" Dean checked the state, and then shrugged.

"Half-full I reckon, we might have to stay over for the night though. Ya never know, she might be a stubborn bitch." Sam nodded, and continued eating his pancakes, and Dean leaned back to stretch. As he did so, Castiel took the time to appreciate the body that Dean flaunted in his thin grey t-shirt. Muscles rippled, and the angel slowly gulped as he drank in the sight before him.

Green eyes fluttered closed as Dean yawned, and the angel moved away to prevent himself from doing something which could alienate him from his friend. Foreign feelings welled up in the angel's mind as he contemplated the purring, and the happy feeling that he felt when he was in close proximity to the hunter. He didn't understand it, but he knew not to act on the impulses that came with it. Dean sat back in his seat, and then rose to leave, before turning to look at Castiel.

"Ya don't mind if we leave for a day or two, Cas?" The angel shrugged.

"Take whatever time you need, Dean. I am more than content to wait here." Dean shrugged, and left the room, feeling something like loneliness tugging deep in his chest at the thought of leaving Cas.

Please leave reviews! My muse loves them! Enjoy! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL! ALL RIGHTS GO TO THE PRODUCERS!**

The strange feeling in Dean's chest grew, and by the time the Impala had left the bunker well behind, he felt like turning back. Electing to ignore the weirdness in his chest, he put on Master of Puppets by Metallica, and sang along, but somehow the feelings that would have normally gone away just by being in his precious Baby, stayed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sam cringing at the loud music, one eyebrow raised, and face pouting in an attempt to make his brother change the music. The further away they went from Cas in the bunker, the more Dean felt like turning back, the feeling in his chest now like lead. Dean sang along with far more gusto than usual, and when the song eventually ended, he felt terrible. Sam seized the opportunity to put one of his own songs on, and sang along just as loudly, watching as his brother's face went stony. Dean didn't even notice when the strains of Don't Stop Believing by Journey washed over the entire car. Now that he wasn't singing along, at least he could pretend to be angry, when all he felt was a solid rock of sadness in his chest. He felt like something was wrong and that he should turn back. At one point where he could along the road, he nearly did, but then remembered that they were hunting, not going for a drive. Sam stared at him curiously.

"Dude, you look like you're hung-over." Dean gave him a 'what-the-hell-you-talking-about-bro' face, and Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Dude, I feel like killing a bitch, is that illegal?!" His voice gave out a lot of anger, his mind screaming that it was all lies and he was lonely, but he steadfastly ignored the voice in his head, and the lump in his chest. Sam raised both eyebrows.

"Technically, yes it is illegal to kill." Dean snorted at that. Sam grinned slightly, glad to have pulled his brother out the funk he'd been feeling. He switched the music to Toto, but relented when Dean pulled it out.

"Aw come on, Sam! We've been over this before! How many times have we had this discussion? Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole!" Sam leaned back, and thumped his head on the rest, wishing that for once his brother wasn't so protective over the car, but the Impala had been all their dad had left for Dean.

And although he'd never mention it to his brother, he could tell that Dean had an inferiority complex. Years of 'take care of Sammy' had been drilled into his brother, resulting in Dean putting everything onto Sam, and nothing into himself. He could vividly remember Dean sacrificing warm clothes and food so that he could eat. Dean had been a mother, and father combined when neither were there. And although he'd stopped looking up to Dean that way, he'd never forgotten the selfless way Dean sacrificed jackets, pants, shoes, food to keep him alive. Dean had never had anything to feel proud about, other than him, the Impala, his hunting skills, and his sex skills. Sam wished that life had been fairer to Dean, than what it had given, but he couldn't turn back time no matter how much he wished. Staring at his brother, he saw the steadfast face that Dean wore shrouded in uncertainty and anger. Wondering what his brother was thinking, Sam mentally shrugged. What his brother thought was his own business, but he had noticed that Dean had been more relaxed when Cas had been there. The past fortnight he'd been moody, and despite going out to bars and getting laid multiple times, he'd never seemed to change. But as soon as Cas was there Dean actually sat down and researched. Sam started thinking, wondering if maybe Dean had been worried about Cas. Heaven had been a bit helter-skelter recently, and maybe that Dean was concerned, and his concern could have been affected by the 'profound bond' Sam reasoned. The more he thought about it, the more logical it seemed. He knew Dean wasn't prone to moody bouts, and that anything related to Cas was bound to be a touchy subject. Mentally sighing, he simply drifted off to sleep, oblivious to Dean's inner turmoil.

He felt weird. He knew it was wrong because Cas was his best friend, but the voice inside his head kept calling him out. "No, you are wrong! Mine, mine!" it said insistently, and as much as Dean wanted to deny any attraction to Cas, he couldn't help but think about those cerulean blue eyes, and full lips, and nearly crashed the car as he wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. 'No! I am not gay!' he thought, but as much as he mentally tried to deny it, he could feel a surging in his chest related to Cas, and he wondered what the hell was wrong with him. He cranked up Rage Against the Machine, and sang along softly, not waking up Sam. He searched through his phone for the picture he'd taken of the article, and turned onto the highway. With all the strange feelings blooming in his chest he wondered if maybe he was sick or delusional. That wouldn't be good considering he was on a case. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he could hear an inner voice telling him to " _Claim, mate, and breed!"_ , and immediately dismissed it as some left over demon or something inside him. He'd certainly never dream of that, he thought. Despite his inner mental insistence that he was not gay, he'd thought about kissing Castiel before. He'd even dreamt of it, which was wrong. Cas was an Angel of the Lord, and not someone he could simply kiss and shag, before swanning off without a concern. Castiel had put him back together, pieced him back after he had lost himself. Dean certainly didn't believe that Cas would be agreeable to the urges surging through himself. The urge to _claim_ was so strong that he shook his head to clear his thoughts. Cas was not his to claim.

He drove on, aware of the feeling in his chest getting heavier and heavier as the miles flew by. The music blaring from the speakers washed over his mind, he was aware and not aware at the same time. In his body the blood seemed to slow down, and the weight on his chest grew heavier. When he finally pulled into the town, and up to the hotel, stopping the car and just staring, he became aware that his blood flow seemed to increase. The feeling in his chest eased somewhat, now he was no longer in motion. Shaking his head at the weirdness, he leant over and shook Sam awake, chuckling somewhat as his younger brother shook his floppy, brown hair and blinked like an owl. The glare of the afternoon sun hit his eyes, and he rapidly adjusted his head so it was angled away from the light. Dean opened the car door and took a good look around. The houses were neat, and in orderly rows, and the general store across the road from the bar and hotel, looked to be more like a gas-station than a store. He moved to the front of the hotel, and waited for his moose of a brother to join him. The two lanky brothers entered the hotel and walked straight to the desk to check in. The bloke tending to it turned and gave them a grin. He stood at 5'8, black dreadlocks pulled into a neat bun at the back.

"What can I do for ya, man?" He droned voice tinged with excitement at prospective customers. Dean returned the grin warily, glancing down at the name badge that read "Hello, my name is Mark."

"D'ya have a single room with two beds?" He asked, his voice rougher than usual. Mark looked at a list, and nodded.

"Sure do." He looked between the pair, and noticed Sam examining the hotel. "Having married problems?" He asked, and Dean shook his head.

"No, he's my brother." He said quickly, and Mark nodded.

"Ah, sorry man. Someone got the tall genes. You're in room 15, second floor, it's on the right." Marcus said with a friendly grin. Dean grinned back, and took the proffered keys the man offered him. Turning to Sam, he led them up the stairs to their room. The room was cheaply furnished with dark wood, and red and yellow wallpaper, reminiscent to autumn. Two single beds stood about six feet apart, and there was a door off to the side that presumably led to the bathroom. A desk stood in the corner with a simple chair, and there was a vanity in the corner where the bathroom was. Sam dumped his bags at the edge of the bed closest to the bathroom, an unspoken agreement between them. Dean always took the one closest to the door. It was a leftover habit from John telling him to protect his brother; the urge still incredibly strong within him. Leaving his bags by the bed, he sat down, and turned to look at Sam, wondering if he should tell him about his irrational thoughts and behaviour.

The taller, but younger brother was now on the floor, shirt-less, doing sit-ups and Dean cracked a grin staring at the many shirts now on the bed in a stack. He didn't know why Sam covered up so much. Maybe he hid his body so too many women wouldn't be attracted to him. Hotness did, after all run in the family. Dean shrugged, and removed his shirt, opting to keep the singlet on. Kicking off his shoes and socks, he moved to the window, and stared around the town. Kids were running around playing games, and it looked completely normal, and Dean wondered why ghosts always chose the most peaceful towns to disrupt. Maybe it was just the way they worked. A few kids ran by and noticed the Impala standing there in front of the hotel. A more curious kid moved towards it, admiring the sleek line-work on the old car. The paintwork was spotless despite the long drive, and the boy stared at his reflection on the door. The other kids edged closer, and Dean knocked on the window gaining their attention. He shook his head smiling, and they waved and ran away. Kids, he thought, so curious and innocent. He moved away from the window, and turned feeling brooding. Across the room Sam stood up, finished with his routine, and Dean shook himself out of his thoughts. Sam looked at him, and he grinned.

"I'm gonna see if they serve pie." Sam nodded, and Dean moved to go.

"Hey, bring me back a salad." Dean turned around.

"You're not a rabbit, Sammy!" He said, and swung the door open to leave.

"Jerk."

"Bitch." And the door closed.

Dean headed down the stairs, keys in hand passing Mark at the counter. The dude nodded at him, and he shot a grin back. As he reached his beloved baby, he was tempted for a moment to leave Sam here and drive back to the bunker. _To Cas._ The moment he thought of it, the voice in his head piped up urging him to _go home. To find Cas. To claim him._ The sound of a kid screaming as his sister chased him jerked Dean out of his thoughts, and he quickly got in, ignoring the lead in his chest that seemed to grow in weight as he headed towards the nearest bakery. Browsing through all the goodies, he finally settled for buying a cherry pie, and an apple, just remembering to grab Sam's salad. His little brother was in the shower when Dean got back, and he dumped the salad on Sam's bed before tucking into the apple pie like there was no tomorrow. The flavours exploded over his tongue and he groaned at the familiar texture of pie. For a moment in his mind he thought of Cas. Tasting Cas, and knowing what he felt like. Shaking his head, he got up and paced. He could NOT be having weird thoughts about his best friend, let alone an angel of the Lord. A badass one at that. With all that gorgeous sex hair, and that tanned skin he'd like to run his tongue over.. 'No!' He thought. 'Nope, I do not have sexual interest in Cas!' He stared at the pie, and continued to eat it, grateful when his mind did not supply him with thoughts of his best friend.

The sun was low on the horizon when Sam finally got out the shower, and Dean grinned at his brother with chipmunk cheeks as he chewed his pie. Sam gave Dean bitchface No.41, and headed to grab the salad, pulling on his plaid shirt as he went. Both brothers chewed silently, staring ahead at the faded beige walls of the hotel. Once they'd finished eating, they began their silent preparation of suits, and FBI badges. Knives were tucked, guns prepped, and eventually, they shared a look, and settled down for the night, grateful that at least this hotel was without bed bugs.

 **PLEASSSSEEE LEAVE REVIEWS! *screams* MY MUSE LOVES THEM! :D**


End file.
